This Kills Me Too, Not Only You
by Laceration Gravityy
Summary: Gerard's mind is cluttered. He was in no state to drive, but he did, and ended up running over Frank, the beautiful boy he hardly knows. As Gerard attempts to fix his own life, he realises, he needs the now broken Frank, to do so. FRERARD! :D xx
1. Chapter 1

**So this is the new story I shall be working on. I was just laying in bed one night, trying to fall asleep, and the idea just came to me. Im sorry this chapter was so short and that not much has happened, but I didnt have much time to write it. I promise it will pick up and become more interesting! I will try and update as much as possible and as soon as possible, but if I don't update too often, don't shoot me because I'm going to be fairly busy. I would love it if you let me know what your thoughts are. :) xx**

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><p>I took a deep, shaky breath. I wish I could think of something, anything! It's like my brain has been rid of any good ideas. Somehow, my creativity has been completely tortured, killed, and buried, along with my passion, in some God forsaken grave that I can't seem to dig back up.<p>

Now, I sit on my bed, a sketchbook on my lap and a pencil in hand, praying to the demons below that an idea will pop into my head, anything at all. I need to draw. Just draw for the life of me!

Footsteps marching down the stairs, towards my bedroom, woke me from my frustrated trance. Then three knocks at my door, and before I could reply, my brother Mikey walked in.

Mikey has always been my little brother, the one I care for. He's such a good kid. Unlike me when I was in high school, Mikey doesn't really get picked on. He just blends into the crowd. He is not "mainstream" like everyone else, he is very much like me actually- which makes sense because he has always been under my influence- but people never bully the kid. They don't quite befriend him, but they just leave him be. Nevertheless, I still operate as his- and I Mikey's words exactly- "overly protective older brother". I don't mind covering that role, because I always have and always will.

"Hey Gerard, I'm going to Starbucks with Frankie. Can I borrow a shirt and like five bucks or something?" he asked, walking over to the end of my bed topless.

I looked up from my sketchbook to him. I noticed the pants he was wearing. They were tight and dark grey. They were hanging on his hips as if they would slide off his butt any second now. The funny thing is, he was wearing a belt, too.

"Pull your pants up. Since when are you 'gangster'? I always tagged you as more of a 'rock dude'." I said, making finger quotes on 'gangster' and 'rock dude'. What can I say, I like picking on the kid sometimes.

He sighed overdramatically and pulled up his pants. "C'mon, GeeGee. Please?"

"Why do you need a shirt and money anyways? I thought you had plenty of both."

"I don't feel like wearing any of mine. And the shirts I like are all in the wash. I also spent all my money on Frank's birthday present, which I'm giving him today, and I'm still waiting for Barns & Noble to answer to my application." He explained, and then added, "Please Gerard? With pretty sprinkles on top?"

"Fine, Fine." I put my blank sketchbook to the side and got up off my bed. Mikey took my spot on the bed and took hold of my sketch book, flipping through the pages.

I went over to my closet and threw him a few tops to choose from. I claimed my light wallet from my desk and walked over to where Mikey was sitting, handing him the five dollar bill.

"What's up with all the blankness and shitty-ness?" Mikey questioned, referring to my sketches that weren't doing so fantastic lately. He knew I was a good artist. He also knew my latest work hasn't been my best.

"I- I don't know Mikey…" I told him, looking down at my feet shamefully.

"You know you can't blame it on the depression forever."

"I know, Mikey!" I snapped. He looked shocked at my tone of voice. "I'm sorry, Mikes. It's just… lately things haven't been best for me. I'm trying to move out, and the way the Industry has been treating me… It's just been so dark for me. I don't know what to do. I feel stuck. And now it like I don't have an ounce of creativity in my body." I admitted.

He got up and hugged me, trying to bring me some much needed comfort. I brought my arms around his skinny body, hugging him back.

"I know you Gee. You'll get out of this, believe me. It's not as bad as you think." I scoffed at his words.

"I don't mean to sound rude Mikey, but it is as bad as I think. I'm getting no where in like, without any other option of escape. All I have to do now is sit back, hope for the best, and see what happens."

He broke away from the hug.

"What ever you say, dude. Just take care of yourself. I'm always here to talk to, too, you know."

I nodded and gave him a smile of appreciation. "Sure thing."

He pulled on a Black Flag shirt and pocketed the five dollars.

"Thanks bro. See you soon." He told me and walked out of my room, closing the door behind him.

I sighed. At least he's happy and has good friends like that Frank kid. The last thing I want is for him to end up like me.

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><p><strong>oh, and if youre kinda skeptical on the story so far, then heres a descriptionsummary, just in case:**

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><p><em>Gerard Way's mind is cluttered. He's trying to figure his life out. He wants to move out of his parents house, to be independent. He wants everything to be like it was always supposed to be, how he's always dreamed for it to be.<em>

_Now, everyone knows you should drive under the influence of alchohol or drugs, but what about plain old depression, angst, anger? Well I guess it doesn't make a difference, because when you run over the beautiful boy you hardly know, but are aquanted with, it doesn't make things better. Gerard's learned this the hard way. Poor Frank Iero had to be his victim._

_As Gerard tries to fix things, to fix his mistakes, to repair his life, he realizes he needs to repair the now frail Frank too, and maybe gain his forgiveness for running him over with his car._

_In the midst of all of this, Gerard didn't mean to start falling for the kid. Too bad Gerard's dreams, the life he's always been hoping for were comepletely ruined. But Gerard soon rwalizes, he doesn't care. His "ruined" life has become even better than his "dream" life. But is it too good to be true...?_


	2. Chapter 2

Tonight is Halloween. I usually love Halloween night but I have been finding that I don't really love anything anymore. Nothing ever seems to excite me nowadays.

It's kind of scary to think where my life is going. Maybe thats why I just stopped, because I'm scared...

Tonight, everyone else would be going to parties, trick or treating, handing out goodies, things of the sort. Not me though. Not the pathetic twenty-one year old faggot, who still lives with his parents, and was "supposed" to do great in the comic industry but failed as usual. Nope, I'm just going to keep rotting in my basement alone, begging and pleading to whatever "God" out there, that some miracle would take place and things would work out, that I'd be freed from this spell.

That's what really sucks about this whole ordeal. Everybody knew I loved art and wanted to be an artist. Everybody also thought I'd do great in the industry. But the one thing I was actually good at, I ruined.

At least Mikey's happy though. It was his buddy Frank's sixteenth birthday today (on Halloween too, which I find pretty cool). So he went out with him. He was probably going to get boozed up and shit, but he's a smart kid and he's seventeen so I hope he can take care of himself.

I'm not really the best of role models. I drink and get stoned all the time to try and forget about the downward spiral that has become my life. I'm not addicted or an alcoholic or anything, but I find I'm getting shit-faced more and more often. I know Mikey walks into my room sometimes, to find me like that.

It breaks my heart to know the guy he's supposed to look up to, his "big brother", is so fucked up and is only getting worse. I should to be a better person for him, so he can come to me with anything he needs. I really want him to have me there but I know that's not possible. I hope he understands.

At least I don't cut. I know some people do that in my situation, but I'm scared of needles and anything of that sort, so that's one thing I don't rely on to make myself forget. I'm glad for that because it's already bad enough that Mikey sees me passed out on the floor, reeking of alcohol. I wouldn't want him to see me bloody and scarred, too.

There's just so much going through my mind right now.

My sketchbook has been flung across the room because I just got so fucking angry with myself that I just couldn't take it anymore.

So instead of a pencil in my hand (which has also joined the sketchbook) I have a nice, big, glass bottle of vodka. The hard liquor always does the trick. Always.

You know what else I wish? I wish I wasn't such a depressed, emotional drunk. I wish I was a happy, bubbly, laughing-all-the-time drunk. It would make things so much easier.

A couple hours later, and a few swigs of alcohol later, I find myself done with just laying on the bed.

I grab my car keys. I want to go for a drive.

_Stop, God damn it! You know this isn't right! Do what ever the flying fuck you want, just don't drive! You can't do this; it's going to end so badly. Stop before it's too late!_

My brain was screaming at me to halt my actions and just take a seat and wait until I pass out. But I don't seem to care.

I feel numb and angry, which was my goal to begin with, so at least I achieved that much. I just don't give a rat's ass. I don't love anyone. I hate everything. I'm going to go drive, and smell the slight smell of beer in the air, from any party-ers this time of night. I then plan on finding a random tree and puking under it.

I stumbled out of the house, vodka in one hand, car keys in the other. I swung the car door of my silver Subaru XT open, and plopped myself down on the worn out, leather seat.

I turned on the ignition and blasted the music as loud as it could go without bursting the windows. Everything was blurry, and my hearing was muffled, so the loudness didn't affect me much.

I pulled out of my driveway and stepped on the gas, letting the car take me wherever the fuck I was going.


End file.
